


In Anticipation

by Snailsway



Category: Twosetviolin, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Cute, Falling In Love, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:48:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23893318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snailsway/pseuds/Snailsway
Summary: Brett finds himself wondering when Eddy began anticipating all of his needs.  General fluff--when friendship blurs into romance.
Relationships: Eddy Chen & Brett Yang, Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Comments: 125
Kudos: 398





	1. Bubble Tea

Eddy was late. With each passing minute, Brett slumped further in his chair, giving his best impression of a melted human puddle. Above, the ceiling fan whirled slowly, pushing the stifling summer air round and round in a vortex of heat that scorched his soul. His spine soon gave out entirely, and he slid his face against the dining table, hoping for some relief from the cool wood. Damn Asian homes. Death traps.

He was jolted awake by the feeling of ice pressing against his cheek. A small shriek almost escaped him, when he realized it was just Eddy. The other boy grinned down at him, crooked teeth _et al._ , looking obnoxiously cool and refreshed. “Thought you might need this,” he said, nodding to the giant bubble tea in his extended hand. “Given your mom’s views on aircon . . . “

“Not like yours is better. Also, you’re late,” Brett muttered. But he accepted the tea without protest and gulped it greedily, relishing the feel of cool liquid sliding down his parched throat.

Eddy watched him with a pleased smile. When he smiled like that, his eyes curved into dark crescents and his lips lifted at the corners, as if he were mouthing a silent _aww._ Brett found it vaguely unnerving and felt his cheeks grow hot. He looked down, pushed his glasses up his nose bridge, and cleared his throat. “So. Well. We should get started.”

“Yep, ready when you are!” Chirpy as ever, even in this weather. Brett rolled his eyes—obnoxious brat. But a smile threatened to break his façade.

To say the video session went poorly would be an understatement. Brett’s thoughts scattered everywhere as if someone were playing pizzicato on his brain. Several times, Eddy had to bring him back--a snap of the fingers, an amused grin or chuckle. “It’s the heat,” explained Brett with his deadpan face. Eddy smiled indulgently. Of course it was. Maybe.

Every so often, Brett’s eyes would land on the tea and his thoughts would run away again. He wondered when Eddy had started anticipating all of his needs.


	2. La Mer

LA in November was mild and sunny, a cool echo of summer. Brett yawned and accepted the coffee Eddy handed him with a sleepy _thanks_. “You look like a mess,” Eddy teased, running his fingers through Brett’s hair. Brett batted at his arm and gave him a weak glare, which gave way to another yawn.

They’d finished their show at Colburn—a roaring success, if Brett had anything to say about it—and had a free day to themselves. Well, half a free day. The first half had been spent hungover in bed.

“We could go to the beach,” Eddy suggested. Brett made a face. There were plenty beaches in Australia. LA had more exciting things going for it, like Hollywood and Disneyland, cool restaurants and clubs. A shade of disappointment dimmed Eddy’s eyes. “Or we could—”

“—The beach sounds good. Let’s go to the beach.”

*

They zigzagged through the sand, with water nipping at their heels and the sound of the ocean playing in their ears. Brett stare mindlessly into the distance, where the sea met the sky in a gradient of blue, and felt a calm that he hadn’t felt for a long time. Standing before _la mer_ , where the water stretched beyond an endless horizon, nothing mattered very much. Not the stage, not Youtube, not success, not even the violin, if he were totally honest. The waves swept all that away, to the bottom of the Pacific.

All that was left was him, and Eddy, shooting the shit and laughing about stupid jokes that no one else would get, built on a shared fifteen years that belonged to just the two of them.

“I guess the beach wasn’t such a bad idea.”

Eddy smiled triumphantly. 

*

By the end of the evening, Brett was feeling sick again. “I _told_ you two sticks of cotton candy was too much,” said Eddy, shaking his head self-righteously. Brett rolled his eyes and kicked at Eddy’s ankle lightly. It wasn't his fault, anyway. If only Eddy had stood his ground earlier and refused to buy the second one . . . but then, Eddy wasn't very good at standing his ground. 

They were standing at the edge of Santa Monica pier, watching the reflection of ferris-wheel lights dance on water. In a dramatic turn of events, the temperature had dropped into the low 50s, and Brett shivered in his thin button-up. Eddy must have felt it, because he _tsked_ again.

“If you say I _told_ you to bring a jacket, I’ll straight up puke on you.”

Eddy pressed his lips together and swallowed whatever he was going to say. Satisfied, Brett was about to turn his attention back to the water, when he felt a warm hoodie drape over his shoulders. All at once, the familiar scent of Eddy’s light cologne flooded his senses. 

He blinked at Eddy in surprise.

“Wear it,” Eddy said softly while he bounced from one foot to the other, not quite looking at Brett. “You get sick way easier and I don’t want to have to take care of you, _again_.”

Brett grumbled that it wasn’t his fault last time (it was never his fault) but he kept the jacket on anyway. He might have even smiled a little. 

*

The uber back to the hotel took forever. From a combination of excess sun exposure, sugar crash, and jet lag, Brett grew increasingly silent until, finally, his eyes closed and his head drooped onto Eddy’s shoulder. The good part about having a tall friend, thought Brett as he drifted off, was that they came in handy at times like these. Instinctively seeking warmth, he pressed his smaller body against Eddy until he'd just about wriggled into the other's arms. 

Eddy peered down at Brett's fuzzy, disheveled head and smiled helplessly. “Oh Brett,” he murmured, “What’ll I do about you?”   
  



	3. Fever

Brett caught a cold after all, which manifested while they were practicing Tschaikovsky in Eddy’s apartment. It began, as it always did, with a faint itch at the back of his throat, which quickly escalated to pained swallowing and a chain of sniffles, then finally, incapacitating fever. He didn’t notice though, until they were well into practice.

Brett didn’t agree to play a duet with Eddy until college, and that was only after Eddy bugged him about it for weeks on end. He had always harbored a slight aversion to duets, having never been able to hit just the right stride with his partners, perhaps due to an innate lack of trust or maybe just a plain dislike of excessive eye contact . . .

Fortunately, it turned out to be not so difficult with Eddy, who, though his playing was completely different from Brett’s, somehow matched Brett’s playing in just the right way. Even the eye contact came more or less naturally—naturally sharing a laugh when they fucked up; or, like now, naturally smiling at each other as their notes bounced vivaciously off their strings, just they way they’re meant to.

When they set their violins down for a short break, Eddy raised a brow and asked, “What’s wrong with you, bro? You’re like, completely red.”

Brett was about to retort something when it hit him that he _was_ feeling hotter than usual—something he’d pegged to the muggy, December heat—and a dull ache had started to spread from his head to the rest of his body.

“You know what,” he mumbled woozily, “I don’t feel so good . . .”

Eddy pressed the palm of his hand against Brett’s forehead and cursed under his breath. “Dude, you’re burning up. Why didn’t you tell me?” Brett leaned deeper into Eddy’s cool hand and gave a small shrug. Even that hurt a little. “Didn’t notice. Not a big deal. Just need to sleep it off.”

“I’ll drive you home?”

Brett shook his head. “Don’t wanna go home.”

Eddy drew in a deep breath and let it out again. Brett had never heard a puff air so saturated with exasperation. Even in his fever-addled state, he smirked a little. A sick Brett was a difficult and petulant one. But Eddy already knew that.

*

Brett got his way and spent the rest of the afternoon on Eddy’s couch, sweating through Eddy’s newly laundered bedcovers. That amused him. Eddy always kept his sheets clean. Actually, he kept his whole apartment clean—too clean for a boy, Brett thought. But Eddy liked it that way, because it kept the roaches away. That amused Brett too, and he let out a small chuckle.

Eddy, who sat at the edge of the couch perusing a thick tome on music composition, frowned at him and told him to go to sleep.

“I can’t. Play something for me.”

“No, I’m busy.”

Brett sighed in disappointment, but allowed him to go on with his reading. Outside, the awful humidity finally broke and a light summer rain sprinkled from the skies. All-in-all: peaceful.

Then: “But I can’t sleep. Play something.”

Eddy groaned. Brett stared expectantly at him with pitiful, puffy eyes. Eddy capitulated.

Brett had always liked Eddy’s apartment. It was grown-up and liberating, free from mom’s incessant nagging, from the sound of dad mowing the lawn, from grandma yelling at him to eat dinner, from the random aunts and uncles dropping in unnecessarily and asking for impromptu performances . . . .

Here, there was a blissful silence, through which he could hear Eddy play the cliché but not unpleasant melody of Gymnopédie, set to the pitter-patter of rain. Brett drifted off to sleep thinking that this wasn’t so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I crazy or has Brett grown freaking adorable during quarantine? Like, that hair? The pink hoodie? Ugh. Screaming. Also, their lofi ep was TOO funny. I can't. Anyway, hope you liked the chapter, more to come, comments always appreciated (esp. if you like pinkhoodie!Brett hehe), etc. <3


	4. Home

Brett pitched it casually during brunch. They were sitting outside on a sunny day that carried a bit of a breeze. A few cars zipped past, but it was mostly quiet, save for the soft chatter of other early diners. Brett peeled listlessly through some layers of croissant while Eddy edited whatever he was editing.

“So, I was thinking,” said Brett, “since you have an extra room . . .”

He had to repeat himself twice before Eddy heard him over his headphones. “But I don’t. That’s my music room,” said Eddy, blinking at him owlishly over his laptop.

Brett’s lips pursed together into a faint pout, then continued with his line of thought as if Eddy hadn’t spoken. “It’s just that I think it’d be beneficial. Like, easier. Because then I don’t have drive to your place all the time, because I _am_ there like _all the time_ , and sometimes there’s traffic, and sometimes I forget things, and then I have to drive back, and so, honestly, it’d be better for everyone. And the environment. Think about the environment.”

“Uh. Bro, are you like . . . asking to move in right now?”

“I’m just _saying_ ,” said Brett, dragging out the _–ing_ with as much nonchalance as he could muster. He pushed his eggs around, growing slightly uneasy over Eddy’s prolonged silence. “I mean, it’s just a thought. Obviously, it’d also be a lot of work, and we might kill each other and—”

“Okay.”

“What?”

“Okay, you can move in,” Eddy said with a small laugh. “Surprised it took you this long to ask. When were you thinking?”

“Haven’t thought that far. Whenever.” As Brett spoke, it occurred to him that he’d been holding his breath. And that he maybe would have been weirdly devastated if Eddy had said no. A disturbing thought that he pushed to a dark corner of his mind.

That was that. They moved onto other topics and never circled back to this. Brett pretended not to notice the few, unreadable stares that Eddy shot him when he thought Brett wasn’t looking.

*

Brett didn’t officially move in until a few weeks later, when the leaves began to change color. His mom made a huge fuss, which was kind of embarrassing, but Eddy took it pretty well.

“Make sure he wears socks around the house. Cold feet is the sure way to illness,” said Mrs. Yang, pottering around with pursed lips and ignoring her son’s exasperated _mom_. He was 28, for fuck’s sake, not that it mattered to mothers. You would always be there baby. In the end, it took Eddy’s soothing, “Don’t worry _ah yi_ , we’ll be fine,” to get her out of there.

“Brett, be more like Eddy. So polite! Smile more. Remember to wear your socks!” were Mrs. Yang’s parting words. Brett rolled his eyes at Eddy’s loud guffaws.

The socks turned out to be sound advice, as Australia tumbled into winter. The days grew shorter and the nights colder, and Brett realized that the apartment wasn’t so great after all. What had seemed so light and airy during the summer was actually drafty as hell.

He stared balefully at Eddy from under the heated blanket. "It's not fair."

“Don’t be a sore loser,” said Eddy with an obnoxious grin.

“Dude, you only won because my hands were frozen!”

“Pff. As if. When’s your Kirby ever beat my Samus? Why do you even _play_ Kirby?”

Brett pulled his pink hoodie over his head and puffed out his cheeks. “I like Kirby.”

“Well, that’s on you, bro,” Eddy replied lazily. He tossed the switch controller aside and picked up the remote. In an instant, the triumphal soundtrack of Super Smash gave way to an electric Japanese pop number, and Brett felt as if he had traveled back in time.

They were fifteen again, the coffee table littered with opened bags of chips and bubble tea, two half-eaten cup noodles (non-spicy for Eddy, because he’s a wuss), anime blaring on in the foreground. Now, the scantily clad women warriors were better animated, but that was all. The stories weren’t half as good as the ones from the late 90s.

They were almost thirty. Nothing’s changed.

Brett saw Eddy press himself deeper into the couch with a slight shiver and felt a small pang of guilt. After much inner turmoil, he lifted a corner of the heated blanket and beckoned for Eddy to join him.

“It’s fine,” said Eddy with a careless wave of his hands. “It’s too small anyway.”

“Ugh, dude, just get over here before I change my mind.”

Eddy hesitated for another second before scooting over as directed.

The blanket _was_ too small, of course. It’d been a gift from Brett’s grandma (Brett has bad circulation, she had explained to Eddy unnecessarily) and was emphatically designed for one, small old person. Eddy flopped around for awhile to adjust his long limbs while maintaining a respectable distance, before Brett told him to _stop that_ and yanked him close so that their sides pressed together under the small patch of warmth. “Don’t move, I’m trying to watch.”

Eddy sat very still after that and they watched the rest of the anime in an unusual silence that somehow made it even more difficult to focus. It didn’t help that their bodies remained slightly tense. Every so often, Brett felt his heart beat just off rhythm, a beat quicker than usual, but only by a bit.

Finally, he gave up the fight, leaned tentatively against Eddy’s shoulder, and waited. When Eddy said nothing (because why would he—they’ve done this a million times before), he relaxed and smiled. Infinitely more comfortable, this way. Thank god Eddy was a good sport.

Outside, a mean wind howled through the trees.

_We never see you anymore_ , complained Brett's other friends, the ones that liked to go out and have a good time.

_Too cold_ , Brett would say disdainfully. _I have bad circulation._

Better to stay home, nestled under the blankets, stealing Eddy Chen’s body heat.

*

When Brett regained consciousness, he was still on the couch, but the TV was off. He felt someone tucking his thick. warm comforter around him. “Eddy?” he called softly.

“I’m here,” Eddy responded from somewhere close by.

“Thanks,” mumbled Brett drowsily, eyes already drifting shut again. “Good night, Eddy.”

“G’night.”

In the dark room lit only by weak rays of moonlight, Eddy Chen stood still and quietly gazed at his best friend of 14 years. With a self-deprecating shake of the head, he retreated to his own room and spent the rest of his night staring at his ceiling, sleepless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My new fave video is Brett slapping his own pudgy cheeks to the rhythm of Bartok and Eddy laughing like a fool. New fic idea--Eddy grows obsessed with how cute Brett's become, and Brett remains oblivious. Thoughts? :) xoxo


	5. Forever

They shuffled out of the apartment on a cold evening to attend the birthday party of one of their uni friends. Or Brett’s uni friend, anyway. She was two years older and had helped him with this and that back in the day, for which he was still grateful.

By the time they got to the bar, the party was already in full swing. The birthday girl beckoned them over with much excitement and fanfare, and everyone seemed duly excited to see them. Brett shared a happy grin with Eddy as he toasted his friend.

After that, Eddy steered Brett to a quiet corner. Brett would have protested, but for the fact that he’d been the one to drag Eddy out. Besides, the corner didn’t stay quiet for long. A continuous stream of people drifted over to say hi or snap pictures. Some of them they hadn’t seen for awhile. Brett was happy enough to chat with them, reminisce, do a few shots—they reminded him of the old days, when he was still a wild young thing that could club all night. He and Eddy both.

Now though, Eddy listened politely and laughed when it was appropriate, but didn’t otherwise have much to say for himself. Other than a few side conversations he got pulled into, Eddy seemed content enough to remain half an observer, quietly nursing a beer and letting Brett have his moment. But he’d smile whenever Brett turned to him, so Brett didn’t mind so much.

The birthday girl drifted over halfway through the party, somewhat drunk. She tugged Brett aside and said, “Look at you, Yang, full-on celebrity now. Who’d-a thought.”

Brett blushed a little. He knew she didn’t mean anything by it, and he never regretted becoming a Youtuber, but he also knew that this distanced him from true classical musicians. He still remembered how upset his friend had been when he quit the symphony.

“Happy birthday,” he said. “And congrats on making the LA Phil. Amazing stuff.”

“Thanks, dude.” Then she let out a little sigh. “I don’t know. It’s cool, I guess. But it’s also kind of . . . the expected thing, you know? I mean, it’s not that cool, compared to what you’re doing. ”

The wistfulness in her voice surprised Brett. “Nah,” he said, with an encouraging smile. “You’ve got your whole career ahead of you. You don’t know how jealous I am. I never would’ve made it! Besides, who knows how long my gig’ll last?”

Even as these last words tumbled out of his mouth, he wanted to retract them. But it was too late, and anyway, a happy smile had blossomed across the girl’s face. “Thanks, Yang.”

That seemed to settle things, and they talked comfortably about this and that for awhile before someone else tried to grab the girl’s attention. As she turned to leave, she gave Brett and cheeky grin and said, “You should really watch your Eddy though. He might meet his Yoko Ono soon, and then what’ll you do?”

Brett blinked at her confusion, eliciting an amused giggle. “I just mean, he’s really grown up, hasn’t he? I remember in uni, he was just your little freshman sidekick, but now look at him. He’s got that sensitive, hipster musician look down pat. _And_ he’s tall. Girls have been all over him all night. You haven’t noticed?”

Brett was speechless for a second, before an indignant frown stole over his face. “What? No, I haven’t—I doubt”—unsure where he was going with that, he said, “Besides, what about me? Haven’t I also—it’s not just Eddy—”

His friend cocked a brow and gave him the sweetest smile. “You? You’ve aged backwards and look like a fifteen-year-old boy. So, yeah, I’m sure you’ll find a nice cougar, or pedophile, or whatever. Maybe a sugar mama, if the Youtube thing doesn’t work out.”

So saying, she ruffled Brett’s hair and waltzed away to her next victim in a cloud of giggles, leaving Brett to recall why he’d stopped hanging out with her on the regular.

A bit wounded, he turned back to Eddy and was surprised to notice that he was, indeed, chatting up a girl standing next to him. Brett couldn’t see her that well, but he could tell she was a slender Asian girl with long, luscious hair, just the way Eddy liked it. Eddy was smiling at her and saying things that made her laugh and it occurred to Brett for the first time ever that Eddy wasn’t _so_ bad-looking.

Brett’s heart clenched for a beat.

Then Eddy looked up from the girl and gave him a goofy smile, the one where he showed his stupid looking teeth and looked like an all-around fool, and the illusion shattered.

But still.

Brett walked over to them and, without acknowledging the girl, asked Eddy if he was ready to go.

Both Eddy and the girl looked at him in surprise.

“Uh . . . now?”

“Yeah, I’m ready. But, you know what, it’s fine. I can head back first. I’ll see you later.” Brett finished his sentence very quickly and always already grabbing his coat by the door before Eddy caught up with him.

“Wait, I’ll go with you! I just thought we needed to say bye to everyone first. Are we just ghosting, or—?”

Brett gave a sullen nod and motioned for Eddy to hurry up. He didn’t even know what he was upset about.

*

It was close to midnight and the streets were eerily quiet. A sliver of a moon hung in the night sky. Eddy complained about the cold for awhile, before he finally asked Brett what was wrong.

“Nothing,” Brett said, his voice muffled by his scarf.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing . . .”

“It’s nothing. I’m just tired. And cold. Forgot to wear my thicker coat.”

“Oh. Okay”

They walked in silence for a few streets. Eddy darted a few surreptitious glances at Brett, but didn’t press further. A few more breaths of icy air calmed Brett down, and he realized he was being stupid. It wasn’t Eddy’s fault.

When they just a few blocks from home, Brett asked softly, “How long do you think we’ll keep doing Youtube?” He frowned as the words came out. That wasn’t what he really wanted to ask.

Eddy looked at him with question marks in his eyes, which Brett ignored.

Finally, Eddy let out a chuckle under his breath and replied, “Who knows, man. Forever, I hope?”

Forever. A small smile broke across Brett’s face. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he took out his left hand from his own pocket and stuffed it in Eddy’s, eliciting a pained shriek.

“Fuck man, your hand’s _cold_.”

Brett threw him a dark smile and said, “I know.”

“ _Ugh._ ”

But to Brett’s surprise, Eddy didn’t push his hand out like he’d expected. Instead, he wrapped his own larger hand around Brett’s icy fingers and held them. The warmth from Eddy’s touch spread a tingling sensation up Brett’s arms. It was wholly bizarre and Brett didn’t know what to make of it, but he also couldn’t bring himself to extricate his hand and laugh about it.

Instead, he said, “I hope we never change," which he immediately felt embarrassed about. That also wasn’t exactly what he had wanted to say.

Eddy paused for a split second. Then he let go of Brett’s hand and playfully pushed it out of his pocket. Brett felt a pang of disappointment as his fingers hit the cold air.

Eddy smiled at him and said, “Obviously.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There may or may not be a little angst coming up . . . oops my bad. :p Does anyone else kind of sort of ship Hyung/Brett? (But that's not where this is going, promise lolol)


	6. Obfuscation

The changes that Brett had wanted to avoid descended upon them anyway, though gradually and almost imperceptibly at first. They continued to film together, practice together, game together, hang out with friends together. Only Brett knew that sometimes, when his hand brushed against Eddy’s or when they shared a smile or when Eddy leaned close enough that Brett could smell his cologne, there would be an infinitesimal deviation in the rhythm of his heartbeat and he would have to look away.

He first noticed the changes when Eddy subtly added a few centimeters of distance between them when they filmed, so that their shoulders no longer touched by accident. Then sometimes, Eddy would space out during their gaming sessions, or would skip them altogether because he was tired or wanted to work on something in his room. Every time Eddy’s door shut, Brett would feel the urge to knock and ask him if something was wrong and if he wanted to talk about it. They’d told their fans that that’s how they resolved their issues, and it wasn’t a lie. But Brett didn’t go through with it, this time. A part of him felt—knew—that if they really spoke about it, whatever _it_ was (and Brett refused to really think about it), things might never be the same again and Eddy might start avoiding him for real and that would be worse than anything else.

Still, he couldn’t quite stop himself from asking Eddy who he was texting, after Eddy ignored him for most of dinner. Eddy blinked at him blearily over his phone and said, “Sorry, man I didn’t mean to . . . I’m being annoying.” He placed his phone on the table face down, as a peace offering.

Brett didn’t miss that he’d dodged the question. “A girl?” he asked with a suggestive smirk.

Eddy shrugged and tried to laugh it off. “Sure. Or maybe lots of girls. You never know –”

Brett’s hand darted out and grabbed the phone before Eddy had a chance to snatch it away. “Well, I’m about to find out—”

“Bro, no—” They had a brief tussle before Eddy wrestled his phone back and stuffed it in his pocket. He looked at Brett crossly and muttered, “I wish you wouldn’t.”

Brett realized then that Eddy was actually upset, which made him feel both genuinely contrite and slightly hurt. “Sorry,” he said. Eddy said it was okay, but they lapsed into an uncomfortable silence for the rest of the evening.

Things were normal again the next morning, more or less, but the incident stood out in Brett’s mind as a turning point. He could count on one hand the number of times Eddy had gotten upset at him for real. So things returned to normal more or less, except Brett’s jokes took on a more tentative tone, as if he wasn’t entirely sure where he stood with Eddy.

*

Brett couldn’t say he was surprised when Eddy confessed a few days later that he did have a new girlfriend after all. “Another one? You could’ve just told me,” Brett said, without much enthusiasm. “What’s she like?”

“The one I met at your friend’s party, remember? She’s nice,” said Eddy. “I invited her to happy hour on Friday. Don’t be mean. She already thinks you’re scary.”

Throughout the years, Eddy’s had a number of girlfriends. Not unexpected, given Eddy’s sappy nature and natural inclination towards romance. But what Brett found strange was that, although Eddy and his girlfriends always started off very sweet, the relationships never lasted long, for reasons Brett never understood. Anyhow, after the first two or three, Brett lost interest and classified Eddy’s girlfriends as unnecessary background noise. He barely noticed them, at the rate they came and went.

Eddy hadn’t had a girlfriend for awhile though, not since they’d begun to take their Youtube career seriously. Brett found that he was a bit irked by the new development, though of course, he had no right to feel this way. He did his best not to show it.

*

When Eddy introduced Toni to their group of friends, Brett offered her a friendly grin and handshake. “Don’t know what you see in this guy,” he joked, or half-joked, because Toni was so pretty and talented and nice and seemed all-around too good for Eddy. Toni giggled shyly and said, _but Eddy’s cute_ , which drew an appreciative smile from Eddy and a collective _aw_ from the group. Brett fought the urge to roll his eyes.

At the end of the night, Brett insisted that Eddy drive Toni home since she lived farther away. “I can walk, since we’re so close.”

“You sure?” Eddy asked, looking hesitant. “You’ve had a couple drinks . . .”

Of course he was sure. As if he would want to be in the same car as a couple in their honeymoon period.

It was still the dead of winter, and Brisbane was still freezing cold. Brett found that he didn’t really want to go home yet, so he wandered aimlessly for an hour or so, before his frozen innards forced him to trek back.

When he entered the apartment, Eddy jumped up from the dining table and rushed over in a flurry of concern. “Dude, you okay? Where were you?”

Brett eyed him in surprise and said, “I thought you’d spend the night at Toni’s.”

“What? No. And don’t change the subject. It shouldn’t have taken you this long. I kept texting you too. Why didn’t you respond? I thought you blacked out in a ditch somewhere!”

The overreaction was unexpected but perhaps not undeserved. Brett smiled sheepishly when he saw that he’d missed 10 texts. “Sorry, man, didn’t see. I was just taking a walk. Anyway, you don’t need to worry, dude, I’m a grown man.”

That didn’t seem to appease Eddy at all, so Brett took a few small steps towards him, raised his arms and, as a joke to lighten the mood, pressed his icy hands to the sides of Eddy’s neck to elicit some sort of funny response.

Eddy drew in a sharp breath, but suppressed all further reaction. To Brett’s further surprise, he instead placed a hand on Brett’s lower back and gently drew him closer, so that they were caught in a strange, loose embrace. Eddy gazed down with uncharacteristic sincerity, and said, “I can’t help it, you know that. Don’t disappear on me like that.”

Brett contemplated this for a moment, trying to hear his thoughts over the loud beating of his heart. Then he pushed Eddy away with a roll of his eyes and told him to stop joking around.

The cameras were off, no fan service required. They would remain best friends, he told himself—nothing less, but nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was hard writing this after watching Eddy's gratuitous butt-slapping, is all I can say. I may have watched it more than once. Ugh why are they so cute.


	7. Smoke and Mirrors

“Toni,” said Eddy, “Do you know what piece this is?”

Brett’s brows furrowed briefly, then smoothed out again as soon as Eddy turned to him. Eddy’s voice always took a gentler tone when he spoke to girls, Brett reminded himself. Like second nature. Toni was no different.

“Oi, Brett? You there?”

Brett blinked at Eddy, then smiled and waved his hands dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. Just distracted by you guys being gross and lovey dovey.”

“Jealous?” Eddy challenged.

An interesting question, but one that Brett didn’t want to ponder. He was still thinking about the tonal difference between Eddy’s “Toni” and his “Oi, Brett.” It took him a second to notice Eddy staring at him.

“What did you say?”

Eddy gave a defeated chuckle. “Can’t believe you’re spacing out on me again,” he said, giving Brett a light pat on the head as a reprimand. “I asked if you’re okay with Toni being here.”

Another interesting question, though Brett supposed he had to answer this one.

“Sure, why not. I don’t care.”

Eddy looked oddly deflated at this, as if Brett had given the wrong answer. “Ok cool.”

*

Anyway, Eddy clearly didn’t care whether Brett was okay it or not. Not only did he continue to invite Toni over, he even took time off to help her film a video for her channel, which he then forced Brett to watch.

“What do you think?”

Brett thought it was very mediocre and that the flute and the violin didn’t really match and that maybe Eddy was being ill-used for views or something, but that seemed rude, so he said that he thought it was pretty good.

“Huh. Really?” asked Eddy, his voice lilting impishly at the end, as if he were testing the waters. Brett didn’t know what that was all about.

As revenge, Brett invited Toni to help them film a video where he and Eddy played Navarra. Then, for the few minutes that the piece lasted, he almost forgot about her. He was lost in Sarasate’s light nostalgia, and in the way the way Eddy stared and smiled at him through their perfectly synchronized notes and the playful pluck of the strings. At the end, he gazed triumphantly at the camera, or at Toni standing behind the camera. _That_ was how a duet should be played.

Toni watch them with a tranquil smile and applauded enthusiastically. “I felt like you guys were in your own world,” she said sweetly, without a trace of jealousy.

Only later did it strike Brett that he had no real reason to subject her to that, and she had no real reason to be jealous of him.

*

On a random Tuesday, Toni showed up at the apartment while Eddy was out running errands. Brett, who hadn’t fully awakened, let out a string of curses under his breath before he opened the door, but was otherwise a gracious host. He offered her some juice and snacks and managed to keep a conversation going about their shared past in music uni. He hoped she couldn’t tell that he was counting down the minutes to Eddy’s return.

“Did you know,” Toni remarked casually, “that back in uni, people used to say that dating Eddy was like dating both of you? That’s why his relationships never . . . ”

Brett gave her a confused blink.

“But I mean, I kind of get it now,” she continued. “I see you all the time. In fact, sometimes I feel like _I’m_ third wheeling _you_ guys. What do you think?” she asked, smiling slyly at Brett with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

“Uh . . . I don’t really know. . . I haven’t heard that . . . .” Brett chuckled awkwardly and took a larger sip of soda that he’d meant to.

Toni laughed lightly. “It’s ok, I was just kidding. Eddy’s dating me, obviously.”

Brett grimaced. The soda burned on the way down.

The front door banged open as Eddy waddled in, his arms full of groceries and two cups of bubble tea. “Hey Brett,” he yelled, “Look what I got you—oh. Toni. You’re here too.”

“Hi,” she said brightly, hopping up to help him before Brett could do the same. Afterwards, she eyed one of the bubble teas with interest—the brown sugar with extra bubbles. “That looks good . . .”

“Ah, that one’s for Brett,” Eddy explained awkwardly. “It’s his favorite. If you want, I can go get—”

“—She can have that one,” Brett interrupted, gliding over. He took Eddy’s half-drunk cup from his hand and took a sip. “I’ll just drink yours,” he said, glancing straight at Toni over the straw.

While Eddy stuttered _o-okay_ , Brett already turned his back and started walking towards his room, Eddy’s bubble tea as hostage. “I’ll leave you guys alone,” he said as he shut his door, just missing Toni’s amused chortle and her whisper of _dude,_ _I told you_.

*

For some reason, Eddy never spent the night at Toni’s. Actually, Brett didn’t think he’d even seen Eddy touch her unnecessarily (not that he was looking). It had to have been the most chaste relationship Brett’s ever witnessed for a 27-year-old man, but whatever, no judgment.

That night, they watched Detective Pikachu, which wasn’t a sad movie by any stretch of the imagination, but somehow had Eddy in tears by the end. 

“Buh-ro.” Brett eyed the tears running down Eddy’s face with deep distaste. He grabbed a tissue and took a haphazard swipe. “You’re actually ridiculous. What the fuck is there to cry about?”

A laugh gurgled out of Eddy. He suddenly scooted close to Brett, hugged him around the waist and buried his face in Brett’s neck. “Don’t make fun of me, Bretty Bang.”

Brett’s heart raced. He pushed half-heartedly at Eddy, but Eddy clung to him like an octopus. It was like the old days again, but not really. A variation on a familiar theme.

“Stop that. Eddy Chen. What would your girlfriend think?”

Eddy lifted his head a few centimeters to look at Brett (his warm breath still grazed Brett's neck). “Nah, I wouldn’t cry in front of her," he said lazily. 

Brett had no ready retort. He looked away before Eddy could catch the small smile on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok I couldn't go through with the angst hahahaa...


	8. Unveiled

Brett had lunch with Hyung on a sunny morning that hinted at spring. As they reminisced over their SSO days, Brett contemplated with some amusement the fact that he had once belonged to a world that didn’t involve Eddy, something that now seemed inconceivable. At the end of lunch, Hyung invited Brett to his upcoming solo recital, to which Brett of course said yes. Beyond the fact that Hyung was one of his closest friends, he was also genuinely impressed by Hyung’s playing.

As to why Eddy insisted on tagging along, Brett was less certain.

“I like Hyung’s playing too,” Eddy had said, which seemed plausible enough, only he added woefully, “So I don’t know why he always only invites you.”

“Because he knows me better, and he only knows you through me . . .”

“But like, he knows we’re--I don’t know--like always together. Why'd he only give you one ticket?"

Brett laughed. “Dude, chill, I didn’t know you wanted to come. I’ll just ask for another one. Do you want one for Toni too?”

“Toni?” Eddy asked, as if he had momentarily forgotten who she was. “Oh. No, just me.”

Brett almost asked him if things were going okay with Toni—he hadn’t seen her for awhile—but decided against it. Eddy didn’t seem too concerned.

*

Hyung was magnificent at the recital, as expected. Even Eddy gave him an enthusiastic standing ovation and gushed about it as they made their way backstage after the show.

Hyung greeted them with his usual, gentle smile and thanked them for coming. “Did you like the encore,” he asked, turning to Brett. “I remember you told me once that it was your favorite cello piece."

Brett didn’t remember saying that, but he thought it was nice that Hyung made a note of it. “Yeah, it was really good,” Brett said, with a happy flush to his cheeks.

“Hyung oppa, me too! I liked it too,” Eddy chimed in as he surreptitiously propped his elbow on Brett’s shoulder, which Brett wasn't able to shake off. Hyung observed their antics with an placid smile and said he was glad Eddy liked it. If he saw the hint of triumph in Eddy's grin, he didn't acknowledge it. 

After that, other well-wishers flooded the waiting room, and Eddy took advantage of the chaos to tug Brett out. “But I wasn’t done talking to him,” Brett protested.

“It’s fine,” said Eddy. “Another time.”

*

The night was still young, the skies were clear, and they ended up walking through a picturesque park filled with gurgling fountains and frolicking children. Brett spotted a line for the ice cream vendor and laughingly recalled how, when they were kids, their parents would never have let them buy any.

“Such a bad deal,” he said, with an exaggerated Asian accent. “Cheaper at the supermarket.”

Eddy laughed. “Yeah. Well, now we have money to buy it ourselves. Do you want one?”

“You offering to buy, or . . . ?”

“Yeah. Wait here.”

Brett felt a strange mixture of elation and embarrassment as he watched Eddy trot towards the ice cream cart and stand behind a bunch of kids and their parents.

They ate their ice cream huddled together on a park bench. It was still a bit too cold for ice cream, actually, and the ice cream didn’t taste as good as he’d remembered it to taste as a child. Nonetheless, Brett thought he would remember this as one of those rare moments in life when he felt perfectly happy, a moment he wanted to bottle up and store forever. 

“Do you regret leaving SSO?” Eddy asked suddenly.

Brett almost choked on his ice cream. "Dude, again?" he groaned with patent exasperation. "It's been a billion years since I've quit and you’ve asked me a hundred times already. No.”

“Not even when you watch Hyung perform?” 

“Nope.”

“You don’t want to be up there performing with him?”

“No, Eddy. I’m perfectly happy performing in front of the camera with you.”

Eddy finally gave him a satisfied smile, looking very stupid. “Okay, cool. Yeah. Me too.”

Brett rolled his eyes and turned back to his ice cream, trying to ignore the fact that Eddy was still staring at him. He remembered that, when they first began recording videos, Eddy would always stare at the camera. He wasn’t sure when that changed, when Eddy’s gaze defaulted to him. He tried not to think about it too much.

Eddy chuckled. “Dude, you’re getting it all over your face.” He reached over and wiped some stray ice cream from the corner of Brett’s lips with his thumb. Brett felt his cheeks burn up. “Bro, stop. That's too much. It's like Asian drama,” he mumbled, refusing to look at Eddy. “You’ve been watching too many Asian dramas.”

Eddy snickered at this and said, “No,” in a low, sultry whisper. “In an Asian drama, I would”—he leaned close, so close that Brett could sniff the chocolate on his breath. Too startled to back away, Brett stared unblinkingly into Eddy’s half-lidded eyes as they remained frozen, Eddy’s lips on the cusp of grazing Brett’s.

Eddy smirked and backed away slowly. “Just kidding.”

Brett let out the breath that he hadn’t known he was holding and muttered _so dumb_ , which drew another hearty laugh from Eddy.

After Eddy calmed down, they enjoyed a few moments of peaceful silent, before Eddy said, “By the way, Toni and I broke up.”

“Huh?” said Brett, startled for the second time and feeling as if he had whiplash. He rummaged his brain for the right ways to say in these circumstances, and cursed Eddy for dropping the announcement so casually. “Er, what happened?”

“Nothing, Just didn’t feel like we were right for each other, you know?” Eddy glanced at Brett.

“Uh. Ok. I guess. I mean, are you okay? Do you . . . want to talk about it?”

“Not really. I’m fine.” Eddy said with a careless shrug. “Just thought I’d tell you. Wanna go home now?”

Brett nodded. It was an abrupt ending to the exchange, but if Eddy had nothing else to say, then that was that. Their walk home was on the quiet side, but not awkward. Eddy seemed entirely unaffected by the breakup, which Brett supposed was for the best.

*

Their friends didn’t believe it. Ray, in particular, was very sympathetic. “Man, that’s so rough. Break-ups are so rough—”

“—No, I’m actually fine—”

“—We should go get drunk, that always helps, let’s go clubbing—”

“—No, that’s totally unnecessary—”

“It’s decided. I have a concert next week, so we have to do it tomorrow.”

There was no fighting Ray when he’d decided on something, particularly when that something was going out drinking. Besides, Brett had also been itching go out for awhile, now that the weather was nice again, so that was that.

Of course, the irony was that, when the group of guys walked out of the club at 3am, the only one who remained more or less somber was Eddy, who insisted that he had to drive.

“I don’t get it,” said Oliver with a drunk burp. “Why can’t you call an Uber like the rest of us?” Eddy shrugged off the question and focused on lugging Brett towards the car.

A drunk Brett was kind of like a sick Brett: clingy, bratty, and nonsensical. Eddy had learned over the years that he needed preserve some sobriety to get Brett home, or else they’d both be fucked, or dead.

“The things I do for you,” he muttered to himself as pulled Brett back from an oncoming car. “If you don’t behave, I’m going to pick you up and carry you,” he threatened.

Brett grumbled that he’d like to see Eddy try, but he calmed own and docilely allowed Eddy to lead him by the hand to the car. In the car, Brett curled up on the seat and promptly fell asleep, which was also obnoxious, though Eddy supposed it was better than Brett being loud and rambunctious. With a resigned sigh, Eddy leaned over and did Brett’s seatbelt for him. “How the hell are you older than me . . .” As if he’d heard Eddy gripe, a small giggle bubbled out of Brett.

After they got home and as Eddy half-dragged, half-carried Brett back to his bedroom, Brett suddenly awakened from his drunken stupor and yelled, “Eddy Chen!”

“Fuck dude, you scared me. Shh, not so loud. What?”

“You’re not allowed to date anymore!”

“Oh?” Eddy asked, ears perking up. “And why’s that?”

“I don’t like it,” Brett grumbled sullenly. “No more girls.”

Eddy laughed, amused, as he gently set Brett onto his bed. “Took you long enough,” he murmured, ruffling Brett’s already messy hair.

“What was that?” Brett yelled.

“Okay,” Eddy said gently, “No more girls. Now quiet down and go to sleep.”

Brett smiled in satisfaction, but grabbed Eddy’s wrist as he turned to leave. “Stay?”

Eddy froze and tried to shake off Brett, to no avail.

“Stay,” he repeated, adding a little insistent tug at Eddy’s wrist.

_Don’t take advantage of the drunk_ , Eddy counseled himself. _It’s unethical._ But that temptation was hard to resist at 3 am when you’re absolutely exhausted, especially with Brett Yang clinging to you like a kitten.

“Fine,” he said, gingerly laying down next to Brett. “But you better not freak out in the morning.”

Brett didn’t bother responding; he was too busy trying to settle into a comfortable position while also trapping Eddy in a death hug.

“Fuck,” Eddy whispered, trying but failing to remove Brett’s arm from his waist. Another resigned sigh. “You’re the worst,” he said, but not really meaning it. After a beat of hesitation, he pressed a kiss to the top of Brett’s head, wrapped the smaller boy in his arms, and tried his best to go to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, some skinship! And we're almost to the end! Thank god . . . :3
> 
> On a separate note, I've been watching their older videos and I'm like continuously puzzled by Brett's transformation from this crazy, unkempt dude to this smol adorable creature he is now? And also Eddy's transformation from being the quiet camera-shy one to the one who does most of the talking. Not that I don't think the role reversal is cute, but like, what happened? lol


	9. Happily Ever After

Brett awakened to bright sunlight with a nauseating hangover. With a frustrated groan, he tried to cover his eyes with his arm, but found that it was stuck. Stuck beneath another limb, it would seem. Wait a minute--another limb?

Brett cracked open one eye, and for disorientating moment, couldn’t decipher where he was. Sure, the room was familiar enough, and this was certainly his bed, but who . . . ? Ah. Eddy. He was in bed, with Eddy. With Eddy’s arms around him. With his back pressed against Eddy’s chest. The rise and fall of Eddy’s chest lulled him into a brief daze and a faint blush crept into his cheeks. A dream, then? He pinched himself hard. Fuck.

Brett lay tensely on his side, paralyzed in body as his thoughts raced for answers. Slowly, memories from the previous night floated back to him hazily (had he really said those thing?) and every inch of him wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

Eddy’s slow, rhythmic breathing assured Brett that he was still asleep. But for how much longer? He carefully removed Eddy’s arm and crawled quietly out of bed.

*

Mrs. Yang was non-too pleased to see her son, who hadn’t visited her for more than week, show up out of the blue looking like shit. “Brett? What’s wrong with you? Oh my god. Did you go _drinking_? You smell terrible. Auntie May is coming over soon—go clean yourself up. Don’t embarrass me!”

Brett instantly regretted his decision to come home. But where else could he go? “Don’t tell Auntie May I’m home,” he yelled as he trudged up to his room. “I don’t want to see her!”

“What are you talking about, you ungrateful—”

Brett slammed his door shut.

*

Brett avoided Auntie May entirely by taking a long shower, during which he ran through the possible scenarios. The best-case would be for Eddy to disregard what he said as drunken nonsense. That seemed unlikely, given Eddy’s sensitivity and how well Eddy knew him, but if Brett insisted on playing dumb, all hope was not lost . . .

The issue, of course, was that even if Brett could continue to play dumb to Eddy, he could no longer deny himself the truth—he liked Eddy Chen more than a friend. Maybe, he more than "liked" Eddy Chen. 

“What a fucking mess,” he thought to himself with a groan as he collapsed into bed. Whatever. He’ll think of a solution after he got some real sleep.

*

Brett was awakened he second time that day by the sound of his mom screeching his name. He felt like he was in high school again, and he was about to yell something back (five more minutes!) when his mom flung open his door and came marching in.

“ _Mom_ ,” he moaned, then stopped when he put on his glasses and saw Eddy materialize behind her.

Mrs. Yang frowned at her cocooned son. “Brett, why didn’t you tell Eddy you were here? Why haven’t you answered his texts? Poor Eddy’s been worried sick, you trouble-maker!” She turned to Eddy and apologized him in the kind voice that Asian moms reserved for other people’s kids. “He’s an idiot, don’t mind him.”

“It’s okay, _ah yi_ ,” Eddy said with a chuckle, “I’m just glad he’s okay.” Brett couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes—what a suck up.

After Mrs. Yang exited the room, Eddy took a seat at the edge of Brett’s bed and stared down at him eyes full of disappointment. Brett pulled the sheets over his face.

Eddy sighed. “Dude, you said you wouldn’t freak out in the morning.”

“No I didn’t,” Brett mumbled through the covers. “ _You_ said that. I don’t recall. Anyway.”

“Are you gonna hide in there forever? I really was worried you know.”

Don’t fall for the gentle, guilt-tripping voice, Brett reminded himself.

“Yes, I’m hiding here forever. Besides, I’m not freaking out. I’m just worried that _you’re_ gonna freak out.”

“What? Why would I freak out?”

“You don’t want to know. Let’s not talk about it.”

“Bro. We have to talk about it,” Eddy said with a short laugh. He tugged the blanket from Brett’s face.

“No, you’ll regret it,” Brett warned.

“I won’t. Let’s just—”

Brett sat up and impulsively pressed his lips against Eddy’s. It was light, and quick—he couldn’t even say what it felt like—and he bounced away quickly. “See?” he said, staring down at the sheets, his heart plummeting to his stomach. “Now you know . . . I don’t—it’s weird . . we can’t just keep--”

He lost the rest of the sentence when Eddy grasped him around the waist and pulled him into his arms. Before Brett could say another word, Eddy leaned down and kissed him. A real kiss—not Brett’s child’s play—a soft kiss that lingered that Brett’s lips and that stole his breath away.

When they parted, Brett nestled weakly against Eddy, who held him in a gentle but tight hold, as if worried that he’d run away again, and who stared at him with a mix of adoration and amusement.

After a few moments of silence, Brett finally found some words, which he vomited out in an incoherent stutter. “Wait, so you—does this mean—you also—since when—”

Eddy laughed low in his throat and hugged Brett closer. “Since forever ago. Stupid. How could you not tell?”

“I’m not stup—wait, but you never said anything!”

“Shh, not so loud. Anyway, you never said anything either.”

Brett pouted—got him there—but he didn’t see why Eddy had to put him through all this turmoil. As punishment, he leaned upwards and nipped lightly at Eddy’s lower lip. Eddy looked at him in surprise, laughed again, tugged him back as he tried to pull away, and kissed him once more, only more forceful, insistent.

“Eddy—” Brett tried to say, but it came out more of a whimper than he intended. Eddy gave him another low _shhh_ , before breaching his parted lips with his tongue, and—

“—Brett! Eddy! Come eat dinner!”

“Fuck.”

Eddy buried his face against Brett’s neck and laughed uncontrollably. “ _Dude_ , we could’ve been making out at home all day, but you had to come here. What the fuck possessed you . . . ”

Bretty ignored the last part and focused on the important things. At home.

Brett smiled shyly, curled his hand around Eddy’s much larger one, and said, it’s fine, we’ll have time later.

Forever, even.

**CODA**

A new, trendy café had opened up in Brisbane, and Toni met up with some uni friends there for coffee one rainy afternoon.

Friend A, whom she hadn’t seen for some time, asked how she was faring after the break up, which drew amused laughter from both Toni and Friend B.

“It was just a social experiment,” Toni said.

Friend A, duly confused, demanded explication.

“Well, I mean, I was kind of interested, but he wasn’t. He had a massive crush on Brett--”

“—Of course—”

“Yeah, like no surprise right? But he was too much of a wuss to tell Brett, even though Brett obviously liked him back—”

“—Yes, obviously—”

“Yeah, I mean Brett looked like he was ready to skin me alive just for talking to Eddy at the bar, but they’re both dumbasses, so anyway, I was texting Eddy and telling him he should go for it, but he was _too scared_ , so I was like, well, I think Brett likes you too. Why don’t we pretend to date and see how he reacts.”

“Oooooh. Juicy. Kind of wrong, but . . .”

“Yeah, but it seemed fun, so we did that.”

“And then what happened?”

“And then, Brett, of course—” Toni paused abruptly. She realized with a sinking feeling that the person who’d asked the last question was not her friend, but someone sitting behind her, someone whose voice she definitely recognized. With a deep cringe, she turned and pasted on her best smile. “Ha . . . ha . . . Brett. Didn’t see you there . . . .”

It struck her that such a smol man should not be able to channel so much rage. She said a silent prayer for Eddy and wished him the best of luck . . . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! And now that it's ended, I realize that the story has nothing to do with the title and the synopsis lolol. Oops.
> 
> Anyway, thank you everyone for reading. Appreciate all the support and comments--I had tremendous fun writing this. Have more in the pipeline, so see you soon! :3


End file.
